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Rated: E · Poetry · Transportation · #1853828
a 1967 Dodge Charger sits in ruin after having been a dream.
She was once so beautiful, as she shined a bright glare in the sun.  She could ride like the wind, and make me feel free and young. 

I controlled her or perhaps she controlled me but; nevertheless it was pure fantasy, the flight I took in that old charger.  That was thirty years ago, and she has changed quite a bit.  Rust runs along the once shiny chrome and the blue leather seats are ripped at their seams.  It saddens me to see the old girl sitting without her freedom, without her attention it is sad, this ending, for something once so great.

© Copyright 2012 Lisa Noe Kittyluv um Puppyluv (lisanoe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1853828